A Celebration to Die For
by Reiven
Summary: [Complete] What if instead of visiting Cage at her home that night, Murdoc instead went after Mac?
1. He Ain't Heavy

Being arrested really wasn't any fun, but it was definitely more fun than mulling over the very real possibility that he'd actually killed someone, and not just any random someone, an innocent civilian on top of it all.

Luckily (which probably wasn't the appropriate choice of word) it ended up not being his fault and Mac didn't think he'd ever felt relief that profound in his life. Sure he'd felt relief before, mostly when it came to life threatening situations that involved very real danger and a very high possibility of death – he'd experienced his fair share, but still, somewhere in the back of his mind there was always this knowledge that somehow, someway, Jack would always be there to save him and vice-versa.

But killing someone – the guilt that came along with it, that would have been something not even Jack would have been able to save him from.

And like normal people, who had normal friendships and normal jobs that didn't involve thwarting murderers and terrorists on the down low every day, they – and by _they_ , he meant Bozer – had decreed that a little arrest for domestic terrorism and a small case of 'almost got killed by a cartel hitman', didn't automatically mean that Christmas was completely ruined.

In his words: "The Christmas pastrami still lives!"

Mac honestly didn't think that the pastrami could get any worse, but it defied even his expectation and somehow year after year it continued to get progressively worse. He wasn't going to be the one to tell Bozer that though. He might be all about logic and the science, but he wasn't an asshole to his friends.

The doorbell that suddenly rang wasn't indicative or anything, it just meant that someone was at his front door. He knew it wasn't Jack because the only time Jack had ever used the doorbell was when a police officer had escorted him over there while he was drunk because he'd somehow forgotten where he actually lived. He knew Cage was going to be late because she'd just gotten back from interviewing Hector Ruiz and was trying to squeeze in some last minute shopping. Bozer was at some secret dead-drop to get his present from Leanna which really only left Riley and Matty, and he knew Matty had a knack for making a grand entrance.

The doorbell rang again, shaking him out of his reverie before he put down the scissors he was using to cut the wrapping paper, hollering out, "I'm coming," while trudging down the steps when the third ring came almost immediately after the second.

The hallway and living room was dimly lit when he got down to the foyer; the only source of light was from the tree in the living room. The house was barren and silent, the only sound coming from the distant Christmas music playing loudly at one of the houses down the street.

There was no one at the door when he pulled it open, only a small almost unnoticeable wrapped package left on the welcome mat on the stoop.

Mac half stepped out, looking around the yard, not finding any sign that there was even anyone there before he bent down to pick up the package.

"Bozer, is that you?" he said aloud, looking around, almost waiting for Bozer or someone to come jumping out of the bushes yelling surprise.

But there was only silence.

His hand automatically reached for his phone in his pocket but found the pocket empty, so he grabbed the small package and turned to enter, closing the door behind him before making his way towards the stairs leading to the veranda.

It was the sound of the hammer of a pistol clicking that stopped him dead in his tracks. He felt his heart drop to his stomach and he mentally kicked himself for being so stupid.

"Murdoc," he said through gritted teeth; turning to look towards the darkened living room and the Christmas tree that stood unassumingly in the corner.

A shadow moved in the dark.

"Very good, MacGyver," came the almost purring drawl. "Too bad you weren't as vigilant when I slipped into your house nearly fifteen minutes ago. You'd think after my last visit, you might have set up slightly better security measures. But hey, what would I know," he said, slithering into the brightness; the light from the tree framing him like an unbefitting colourful halo.

"What are you doing here, Murdoc?" asked Mac, straightening his back and levelling Murdoc with a glare.

"I just came to extend my most heartfelt seasonal greeting to my favourite boy wonder," he said with a grin. "I was going to pay one of your team a visit instead but I thought – hey, I haven't seen MacGyver in a while and to be completely honest, I've missed our back and forth banter. Do you know how hard it is to find a conversational partner that's smart, interesting and easy on the eyes?"

Mac's mind was already moving a mile a minute, glancing around the room at anything he could use to disarm Murdoc; his house was filled with it, the only problem was trying to make a move before Murdoc could even –

The pain was sudden, unexpected and almost mind numbing.

He found himself propelled back into the wall and for a second he couldn't move or think and for a split second he felt absolutely nothing.

The pain came gradually like a leaking dam. First it started in his abdomen, spreading out across his chest and torso and almost causing him to see white as his brain tried to process the level of agony his body was feeling. His legs couldn't support his weight and he found himself sliding down the length of the wall, slumping heavily onto the hardwood floor.

His hand subconsciously went to his stomach and even in the darkness of the room he could see the gleaming red liquid trickling through his fingers and down his arm when he lifted his hand up in front of his face.

Murdoc just shot him.

Murdoc tsk-ed disapprovingly when he moved closer, stopping about a meter away and lowering himself down to a crouch in front of Mac. Mac couldn't concentrate on the eyes that were gazing creepily at him; he couldn't even concentrate enough to reach for the glass bottle beside him or the brass pail full of pennies that Jack for some reason thought was an appropriate choice for decoration. He couldn't even think of protecting himself or taking out Murdoc even though the man was within reach. He could only concentrate on trying to breathe in and out and not allow the stars that were already flooding his vision to get the better of him and lose consciousness. Murdoc had taken him once, and he was never going to let that happen again.

He just needed to stall… he needed to make time for Jack to get there… for Matty and Cage… they would catch Murdoc. They'd get him and arrest him and… they would come…

Everything was dipping in and out of focus around him, he couldn't he focus on the image of Murdoc's face in front of him or the peculiar look he was wearing.

He looked down and could only focus on the blood that was slowly pooling around him, like he was sitting in a puddle that was getting progressively bigger. The whole left side of his shirt and pants was saturated in blood and the blood kept leaking through his fingers no matter how much pressure he applied on the wound.

" _W-Why_?" he rasped out, feeling the word being ripped from his throat like a gasp.

"Do I need a reason?" asked Murdoc. "I am a killer after all. To be honest, I didn't want to do it this way; I'm far too fond of you to let you go out in such an… underwhelming manner – but I'm also about entertainment, you see. I didn't hit any major organs, so really the only real risk here is blood loss and I see you're already losing a whole lot," he said. He'd moved in close and was crouched barely a foot away, his gloved hand reaching over to touch the blood that was slowly trickling down to the floor; fiddling with it between his fingers.

Mac's breath was coming out ragged, he could feel his eyelids drooping through he kept his eyes trained on Murdoc. He could feel a cough bubbling inside his chest, the sudden jolt was agonizing on his body, but the worst was the copper tang he suddenly tasted on his tongue. His brain could still process what was happening but he just couldn't concentrate. He was so focused on trying to keep conscious and trying to keep breathing he could scarcely do more than that.

"Oh dear," said Murdoc, the tone of his voice almost disappointed when he noticed the tinge of blood on Mac's lips. "Seems like the bullet ricocheted and must have nicked your lung," he said with a sigh, "Looks like my skills have gotten rusty. Damn. I honestly wanted to play around more, MacGyver. Think of this as my Christmas present to you – a test. You seem more than capable of getting yourself out of any kind of distress, consider this the ultimate one. If you manage to survive this then you have my utmost respect."

He reached over with his blood soaked glove, cupping the side of Mac's face in his palm. Mac could only muster up a weak glare, unable to even slap his hand away. His could feel the rattling inside his chest and the blood that was backing up his windpipe and he knew it was bad.

As quickly as the touch came, it was gone; Mac could feel his own warm blood staining his cheek and jaw and all of a sudden Murdoc was on his feet.

"Well, MacGyver, it's been fun. I left a gift specially for you under the tree for when… you know – until then all have to say is 'may the odds be ever in your favour'," he said. Mac couldn't even muster up the energy to keep his eyes on Murdoc as he walked away, only the sound of his whistling signaling his departure as his got further and further away until he heard the sound of the front door opening and closing and then there was only silence.

He tried to move but only managed to jolt the wound in his side causing him to hiss in pain. He couldn't push himself up or move even a fraction, but he needed to get to his phone, he needed to call Jack… he needed… he needed…

He felt himself slipping sideways down the wall now slick with his blood, crashing painfully to the floor on his injured side. He didn't have the energy to push himself up or call for help or to even keep his eyes open. The only thing he could do was lie there and hope that Jack would come and save him, as he'd done over and over again; as he would continue to do until the day he died.

He was assured of that.

His last conscious thought was seeing his mother's beautiful face crouching down in front of him, her presence framed by the light behind her almost like a halo. In his last moment, he couldn't keep the smile off his face as he found himself muttering the unfamiliar word, " _Mom_."

He forgot how much he missed seeing her face.

And then there was nothing.

"I'm telling you Riles, my Spidey-senses are tingling. And they've not yet lead me astray," said Jack as he pulled his car into the familiar driveway.

"You mean your MacSpidey-senses? I swear Jack, you helicopter parent Mac even worse than you do me," said Riley with a chuckle. "He's a big boy."

"He's a big boy with a big brain and a small sense of self-preservation, _miniscule_ , there's the difference," said Jack as he put his car in park and stepped out before he could even finish the sentence. "I called him and he didn't pick up and I don't like it one bit."

"You need to relax Jack, it's no point giving yourself a heart attack on Christmas getting all riled up over Mac probably being in the bathroom or getting preoccupied growing his own chemical Christmas tree or something Mac-ish like that."

Jack didn't wait for Riley to catch up. He was half way across the lawn, not even heeding Riley's question about the presents in the backseat.

The house was dark when he approached, which didn't help his apprehension one bit. He fumbled with the keys in his hand, singling out the familiar key for Mac's house and stepped up to the stoop and almost immediately a dark, foreboding feeling came over him. He immediately signaled for Riley to stop in her tracks, which bless her, she did without question. It must have been something on his face or in his demeanor that spooked her.

Jack immediately reached for his gun, sliding the key into the lock at the same time. When the clicking sound of the mechanism unlocking reached his ear, he turned to Riley who was staring apprehensively at his back. "Call Matty and Cage and tell them to get their asses down here. Something doesn't feel right," he said and watched as Riley immediately rummaged for her phone.

He didn't stick around to wait for her to make the call; he pushed the front door open and carefully stepped in.

The whole lower level was dark, only the light from the Christmas tree and the oven still heating up Bozer's Crapmas pastrami – that crap was absolutely not natural – allowed Jack that bit of visibility.

"Mac?" he called out cautiously, looking around the room and peering around the bend before he entered. His hand reached for the light switch but it wasn't working. The main must have shorted out, or in a much worse case scenario: someone messed with it. "Mac, you're really stressin' me out now, buddy," he yelled out. "Okay, I believe in Santa Clause, ya' happy now?" he added. " _Mac_ , come on man."

There were dark tracks on the floor that he could see even through the darkness and a scent in the air that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He didn't like it. He did not like it one tiny bit.

He had only maybe thirty percent visibility when he entered the hall leading towards the veranda and no real depth perception so when he kicked something that had been lying haphazardly on the floor he almost went stumbling to the ground.

He could only see a dark shadow when he turned to look at what he'd tripped on but somehow in his gut he just _knew_.

There were protocols for this type of situation: clear the perimeter, make sure the threat has been neutralized or really gone and wait for back up. But for Jack, when it came to Mac, protocols would always go flying out the window.

"Mac!" he yelled, rushing over, dropping to his knees; his momentum causing him to skid the last few inches. He could feel the wetness soaking into the knees of his pants the moment he crouched down beside the still figure. "Riley!" he yelled out immediately after. "Check the mains! I need light!"

He didn't know whether she heard him, but not a minute later there was a loud click and brightness suddenly burst into the room.

Jack was blinded for half a second but when the whiteness cleared from his eyes, he almost wished he were blind, because in front of him was a sight he never ever wanted to see and a sight he knew he would never be able to forget.

Mac was lying in a pool of blood. _His_ blood. He was unconscious on his side, blood spread around him like a sinister tapestry. His shirt and pants were soaked and it was still trickling down his side, rippling in the pooling liquid beneath him.

"Oh my god, _Mac_ ," he yelled. His hands hovering over the still figure for a solid second because all of a sudden he didn't know what to do. "Riley, call an ambulance! Riley!" he yelled. A part of him realized that calling Riley probably wasn't the best course of action because hearing the desperation in his voice she surely was –

"Oh god!" came the voice as Riley appeared in sight, her hands flying to her mouth.

"Call an ambulance – call… call Matty – call someone!" said Jack, stuttering and lost, like he didn't even know what to do in that moment. All his skill and experience had suddenly gone flying out the window along with the protocols because this was Mac and he had Mac's blood all over his hands and staining his clothes and it was not a situation he ever wanted to find himself in.

Bless Riley, he thought in that moment. She rushed over, one hand fumbling with her phone calling… someone, Jack didn't know who, and her other hand quickly reaching for the wound on Mac's side, pushing up the material of his shirt and allowing them to see the extent of his injury.

"Jack! You need to put pressure on this!" she yelled. The sound of her voice and the desperation in it immediately shook Jack free of his dark thoughts. "Jack?"

Immediately the wall came down and he didn't just focus on the most important person in his life lying there bleeding to death; he had to do something, he needed to stop the bleeding, stop the life from continuing to pour out of him without mercy.

"Jack!"

That was the last push he needed; he leapt to his knees and ran to the kitchen to grab the hand towels, bringing all he could find back and bundling them up against the wound (a bullet wound, most likely made by a 9mm, Glock if he had to care a guess, he made a mental note to himself) pressing down as hard as he could. Mac gasped the moment he did but didn't wake up.

"How are we on the ambulance?" asked Jack.

"They're two minutes out," said Riley. She'd moved to Jack's other side, reaching to find a pulse on the side of Mac's neck. "He's got a pulse, it's weak, but it's there."

Jack exhaled loudly; he could still feel his heart pounding in his chest. "Matty? Cage?"

Right on cue they heard the sound of cars pulling up into the driveway, the sound of rushing footsteps before a panting Cage appeared in sight.

"What happened?" she asked, dropping to her knees and reaching to grab Mac's hand.

"I don't know. I had a bad feeling when he didn't answer his phone and I came back to find the whole house completely dark," said Jack. His eyes moving from Cage to a flabbergasted Matty who suddenly appeared behind her and a handful of armed men shuffling by, disappearing deeper into the house.

"Do you know who did this?" she asked.

Jack cursed under his breath. "Do we even need to spare a guess?" he asked through gritted teeth.

The sound of Mac's wet, painful cough immediately halted all conversation.

"Mac?" said Jack, turning to look at Mac as his eyes cracked open a fraction.

He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out.

"Mac, do you know who did this?" asked Cage immediately, reaching over to place her hand on the side of his face, feeling the dried tracks of blood on his cheek under her finger tips.

Mac didn't answer. His eyes were glassy and unfocused and his eyelids kept drooping.

"Hey, Mac, you stay with us, okay?" said Jack, forcing a smile onto his face. "Mac, you're gonna be okay, man, ya' hear? Who else in this world can succeed in getting arrested for domestics terrorism and get shot all on the same day? Just you, man," he said.

A small smile tugged as Mac's lips before it dropped and his eyes slipped close again.

"Mac? Mac, come on, stay with me," pleaded Jack. "Where the hell is that ambulance!"

"Our medics are thirty-seconds out," said Matty, returning to the room, her phone still plastered to her ear.

"We don't have thirty-second, Matty!" yelled Jack. He could already feel the dampness pooling in his eyes when he looked at his boss but he couldn't stop them from coming.

"It's going to be okay Jack," said Cage, reaching up to grasp him on the shoulder.

It wasn't comfort that Jack needed though, it was help for Mac. Jack was going to go out and kill the person who did this, no two ways about it. But right then he couldn't think of anything else besides keeping Mac alive and making sure he got the help he needed. That was the only thing that mattered. Mac was the only one who mattered.

"It's gonna be okay, Mac," said Jack, and he wasn't sure if it was more reassurance for Mac or for himself.

The med team couldn't have arrived sooner though Jack was hesitant to completely relinquish his hold on Mac. He stood hovering close as the Phoenix's medical personnel worked diligently on Mac, trying to get his blood pressure stabilized and stop the bleeding. The bullet had ricochet when it hit and punctured his lung and Jack had to force himself not to turn away when the team was forced to intubate. It was the worst moment of his life from when he found Mac bloodied and unconscious on the floor, to the agonizing wait for the medical team and watching them working on Mac, keeping him alive by any means necessary and knowing that there was not a damn thing he was able to do to help them or to help Mac.

He'd trade places with him in a heartbeat.

Watching him so hurt and so absent; not at all like the lively, amazing young man he'd come to know and love was agonizing. He'd never seen Mac so injured; he never wanted to, and in that moment he couldn't stop thinking that if he had been there, if he hadn't left Mac alone after what he'd been through, if he hadn't been so useless, then maybe Mac wouldn't have gotten hurt. He'd take a bullet for the kid any day of the week forever. That was how much Mac meant to him.

The ride to one of the subsidiary hospitals that was part of the Phoenix foundation felt way to long. Jack was insistent on riding along with Mac and the medical team with Cage and Matty following in Cage's car. Riley opted to stay behind to wait for Bozer to let him know what had happened.

Jack didn't let go of Mac's hand for even a second from the moment they got into the back of the ambulance. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Mac's too pale skin and the dried blood that shaped what looked like a handprint on the side of his face. Mac had always been a few shades too pale, but at that point his skin was almost translucent, the redness of the blood and the blue veins standing out almost in stark contrast to the rest of him. His chest rose and fell with every squeeze of the blue rubber ambu-bag by the med-guy but Jack tried not to focus on that. He forced himself to focus only on the positive things; Mac was young, and strong and he wouldn't let a little bullet bring him down. He definitely wouldn't leave Jack behind like that.

 _Jack told him_ , he wouldn't be able to live with Mac's death on his conscience. Mac knew that and he wouldn't do that do Jack. He just wouldn't.

Jack had to find comfort in that at least because Mac's skin was too cold to the touch and his face was too pale and at that point he looked more dead than alive and it terrified the shit out of Jack.

"Hang in there," he said. "You hang in there – I can't lose you, not you too, Mac – I just can't… so… please. Hang on."

 **tbc**


	2. He's My Brother

Mac was rushed straight into the emergency room and then into the operating room without even giving Jack time to catch his breath. He followed the gurney holding Mac's still figure as far as he could and could only watch on helplessly as he disappeared behind the doors, leaving him with Cage and Matty who stepped up beside him to offer him comforting words that fell completely on deaf ears.

That was almost two hours ago and still they'd received no word from the OR about Mac's condition – whether he was even still alive.

Bozer and Riley arrived about half an hour after Mac was taken into the OR and were siting huddled together near the far end of the room. Matty was busy on her phone and Cage was sitting back just watching everyone in the room with a hawk like gaze.

Jack was pacing, as he'd been doing for the better part of two hours. He couldn't sit down, he couldn't stay still; his mind was replaying the sight of bloodied Mac – his life seeping out through Jack's fingers, the sound of his laboured breathing and the paleness of his skin – over and over again, tormenting him. It was agony.

Jack didn't know what to do with himself. He needed to know if Mac was okay, if he was going to be okay. He needed Mac to be okay, that was the only thing that mattered to him.

The appearance of the doctor brought no news only that they were short on blood because there had been a major accident earlier that day and their blood bank was running low. Mac had lost too much blood than they had in supply.

Jack volunteered without waiting for the doctor to finish his query. At the very least, it made him feel like he was doing something and not just standing around with his thumb up his ass useless. He forced them to take as much as they could and more; it didn't matter that he started feeling lightheaded and nauseous; it didn't matter that the room started spinning at one point and refused to stop. None of that mattered but Mac, and if Mac needed blood, Jack would give him every last drop. Eventually a nurse finally put her foot down; gave him some juice and a biscuit and watched him closely until he downed them both.

He rejoined Matty and the rest in the waiting room soon after, still without getting any news about Mac's condition. He was too exhausted by that point to keep yelling for answers and felt a deep sense of satisfaction when Matty seemed to pick up where he left off.

It took another two hours before a doctor finally entered, his green scrubs now half brown with blood; a sight that made Jack's heart drop even further into his stomach – but Mac was alive and that was all that mattered.

He was stable but not completely out of the woods; the bullet had missed vital organs upon entry but ricocheted and hit his lung, causing a hemothorax and nicking an artery somewhere along the way. Ironically it was also the bullet that kept him from bleeding out faster than he was. They almost lost him twice during surgery because of the blood loss.

There must have been something on Jack's face that prompted the doctor to add that his blood had saved Mac's life. A part of Jack knew he'd just said that as an empty comfort because he probably felt sorry for him looking so pitiful, but another part of him was so relieved he almost cried. At the very least, it made him feel just a little less useless.

Mac was being moved to the ICU, and because of the pull Phoenix had with the hospital they would be allowed to see him even though they weren't immediate family.

Jack instantly corrected him on that front. Mac was absolutely his family, as was every single person in that room.

Seeing Mac before the hospital was hard enough, but seeing him _after_ wasn't much better. The only difference was that he wasn't covered in his own blood and leaking precious life out of the hole in his side.

But looking at Mac in that hospital bed, looking so pale and vulnerable, completely absent and almost devoid of life; being kept alive by machines breathing for him and keeping his heart beat going; it broke Jack's heart into a million little pieces.

He'd trade places with Mac in a heartbeat if he could.

"Mac?" he called out when he approached, not expecting a response but unable to quell the feeling of disappointment in his gut when he didn't get one. "Hey, it's me, bud. Your old buddy, Jack," he said, reaching over to take Mac's limp hand in his, mindful of the crisscrossing lines and the IV's and all the different wires leading to and from Mac's still figure. "Thank you," he said, trying not to allow his emotions to get the better of him, swallowing the sob he could feel bubbling up in the back of his throat, holding Mac's hand tightly in both of his, "Thanks for hangin' in there, Mac. Thanks… Thanks for not going where I can't follow," he added, feeling the lump prominently in his throat. Getting the words out was becoming harder and harder. He could feel the prickling of tears in his eyes and the warmth that spread when they began pooling regardless of his stern will to keep them at bay. "Hey, Mac… I'll – I'll be right here, okay? I ain't going nowhere, so you take your time, you just give yourself time to heal better – I'll be right here when you wake up, alright, man?"

Mac didn't stir. His eyes remained closed and his chest rose and fell with every mechanical breath that was pumped into his body, but Jack interpreted that as an _affirmative_.

Without letting go of Mac's hand, Jack reached for the chair that had been placed at the side of the bed and pulled it close. He kept Mac's hand gripped tight within his own, bringing their clasped hands up to rest his chin on, his elbows propped up on the side of the bed and so he sat and he waited; his eyes not once straying from where they were trained completely on Mac, as if he was afraid to look away for even a second; that Mac would suddenly disappear from before his very eyes.

He could feel Matty's intense gaze boring holes into the back of his head but he paid it no mind, he paid nothing any mind, nothing in the world would have been able to drag him away from Mac's side in that moment – except maybe if they brought Murdoc to him. He'd might consider stepping out for seven whole seconds, just enough time to bury a bullet or two right between that psycho's two lazy eyes.

But other than that – Jack Dalton was planted in that position at Mac's bed side, where he belonged. He would give anything for the situation to be different, or reversed, but even he knew that was impossible, so he'd stay at Mac's side for however long, through the end of the world or the zombie apocalypse and nothing short of death would be able to get him to leave.

"I'll be right here, Mac, _brother_ – so… so you just come join me whenever you want, okay?"

Only the sound of beeping and the hissing of the ventilator answered him but Jack interpreted that as an _okay, Jack_.

Forty-two hours.

That was how long it had been since Jack last heard Mac's voice and seen his smile and looked into those gorgeous baby-blues of his.

Time passed almost in a vacuum in there. He didn't know night from day from rain and shine and whatnot. It didn't matter. One more second that Mac was absent from the world was a second longer that the world seems duller and uglier and that much less interesting a place to be.

There were three days to the New Year and Jack couldn't imagine ringing it in without Mac there by his side.

Jack hadn't moved in the two day they'd been at the hospital; he had only a vague awareness of everyone else coming and going around him and whenever Riley or Bozer would come, shoving a bag of take out into his hand and forcing him to eat. Food tasted like gravel in his mouth but he forced it down anyway.

All of them were a constant presence at Mac's side; even _rando_ employees of Phoenix like Janet – or June, or whatever her name was and some of the other staff and agents, some of whom they worked closely with and a few others they really only ever saw around, would stop by to ask how Mac was – Mac was a popular guy, which wasn't really news to Jack; Mac was hands down the most awesome person he knew, it went without saying that everyone else would think the same thing.

"Why would Murdoc do this?" asked Riley suddenly.

Jack found himself piquing up without even realizing. "Do you even need to ask why? That psychopath's had it out for Mac since forever!"

"No, I know that," said Riley quickly. "What I mean is that he's always had a fascination with Mac, but – isn't it weird that he just went there to like _kill_ him. No tricks, no mind games just cold blooded point blank shot like that, it just seems very unlike him."

"Oh so we know everything about Murdoc now, do we?" asked Jack. He knew he was being hard on Riley but he really couldn't help himself. Just the mention of the name got him all riled up. Mac was still unconscious, still hurt, still breathing through a tube because of that psycho; he really didn't want to give Murdoc any kind of benefit of the doubt over anything.

"Riley's right though," said Cage, "There must have been something that triggered it."

"No offence to you guys," said Bozer, standing up and walking into the fray, "But I'm with Jack on this. Who cares why he did it? Only that he did. He almost killed Mac, _for no reason_. I'm all for executing that crazy asshole without giving him a fair trial."

Riley sighed exasperatedly. "I don't disagree with you guys – I don't think I've wished to see anyone dead more than I do with Murdoc. I was just making an observation."

"Riley has a point." Matty's voice came floating in as she entered Mac's room. "It's something I was thinking about as well, for no other reason than to try and figure out why this happened and hopefully try to prevent it from happening again in the future."

"I know _one_ definite way to keep it from happing in the future," interjected Jack.

Matty ignored him. "I… I don't know if it's anything to do with anything, honestly the only person who stands even the slightest chance of getting into Murdoc's head is lying in that hospital bed. But… a report came to me the other day; I put it aside because it didn't seem to be of any relevance, but it did get me thinking…"

"What report?" asked Cage.

Matty sighed. "Just… I don't know if it's in any way related –"

"Just spit it out, Matty," said Jack impatiently.

"I received a report from the agents I have watching Cassian; apparently he got into a tussle with another boy at school who pushed him off the monkey bars and fractured his arm. I'm not saying that these two incidents are in anyway related, but I just thought I'd mention it just in case, and to bring up the very concerning fact that if this is indeed the trigger, then it means that not only does Murdoc know where Cassian is, he's obviously getting reports on his daily routines the same as us."

Jack was absolutely flabbergasted. His eyes found Mac almost instantly before snapping over to Matty. "You mean to tell me that there's a chance _this_ happened because his kid got into a schoolyard scrap? Mac almost died because Murdoc was throwing a tantrum?" asked Jack in disbelief.

"I'm not saying that that's the reason, Jack – I was just making an observation. Regardless of the why, we need to make sure that something like this never happens again," said Matty.

Jack scoffed but didn't reply. Instead he turned his attention back to Mac and kept it there. He paid no mind to the conversation from that point on and he only noticed Matty about to leave when she stepped up to Mac's side, reaching over to brush a few wayward strands off his forehead with a gentleness he didn't often see from her. The look on her face was unreadable as she stared at Mac's lax face. But as quickly as the moment appeared, it disappeared again, and the wall came down once again, bringing back the Matty Jack knew and loved to hate.

"Take care of our boy," she said, leveling Jack with a look. "Call me the moment something changes."

"Yes, ma'am," said Jack.

Cage left with her, leaving Riley and Bozer behind with Jack but Jack paid neither of them any mind. Riley was safe there with him and he knew he could count on Bozer to watch out for her as well. Not to mention the dozen or so agents Matty had guarding the floor, both in the form of official guards and also as undercover nurses and patients that kept walking past the door.

It wasn't that Jack didn't trust any of them; he just didn't trust them with Mac's well-being. He was bound to Mac more than the kid even realized and there was nothing beyond hell and high water that would make Jack leave his side for even a second.

He exhaled loudly; running a thumb across the back of Mac's hand still clutched tight within his own. "We all miss you, Mac," he said, "Any time you're ready, we'll be right here."

He didn't realize when he fell asleep, still clutching Mac's hand like a lifeline.

Four whole days.

That was how long Jack spent sitting by Mac's bedside, holding his hand and willing him to wake up.

But Mac being his stubborn self didn't stir even once the whole time.

Doctors and nurses came and went and therapists of all sorts kept passing through, Jack couldn't even keep track of the medical personnel that kept appearing at the door. He was seeing enough of people in scrubs and lab coats to last him a freaking lifetime; but they were all there to help Mac and that was really the only thing that mattered.

Jack kept a close eye on every single person that came in through the doors, watching each one with hawk eye proficiency at whatever they were doing and what they were fiddling with and whatever they were doing to Mac. Asking questions about the medicine they were giving and the IV bags and blood they were changing; he could see the nurses getting irritated at him but it didn't matter, it was his job to look out for Mac and he almost failed once already, he wasn't up for a rehash of that again.

He was going to kill Murdoc after everything was set and done and Mac was on his feet again and back home where he belonged. He was going to get his hunting rifle out of storage, dust off his camo and he was going to go to town on Murdoc's greasy, weasely ass. That was a promise.

A few times it seemed like Mac was beginning to stir, his hand would twitch or his brow would furrow, and Jack couldn't stop himself from getting his hopes up, but it all turned out to be false alarms. Mac continued to sleep unperturbed and completely lost to the world.

It was less than twenty four hours to go before the New Year would come knocking. Jack had all sorts of stuff planned for the night; he'd gotten a shit load of unsanctioned fireworks from an old buddy of his and had planned on bombing the shit out of the skies come midnight of the New Year.

But all of that seemed unimportant in comparison, there was nowhere else Jack would rather be than right there at Mac's side, watching his six.

One of therapist had just left; the one who kept stopping by to check on the breathing tube; deciding when Mac could finally do without it. Jack personally couldn't wait to see it go. Other than the state of unconsciousness he seemed to be a permanent inhabitant of, Mac didn't really look much worse for wear. There were the lines and wires and the IVs and the tube sticking out the side of his chest, but all of those were partially obscured by the hospital gown and the blanket. There was no hiding the tube though, and Mac looked twice as ill because of it and Jack would not be sad to say adios to it. But the doc said that she still wanted to monitor him for the next twelve hours or so to make sure that he was strong enough to go without it.

Riley and Bozer had left to take care of things at home and Cage was with Matty. Jack had complete confidence in Matty's ability to take care of herself, but knowing that Cage was with her put him mind even more at ease. He wasn't keen on any member of his team going anywhere without a partner, knowing that Murdoc was having some sort of mood-swing. The fact wouldn't bode well for anyone.

He was alone with Mac in that room, his hand still holding onto Mac's; His eyes gazing blankly at a spot in the far corner of the room.

So focused he was on the nondescript mark where the paint was chipped that he almost missed it; the way Mac's fingers twitched in his hold; the way his brows furrowed confusedly and the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he slowly came to the uncomfortable realization that there was something in his throat.

"Mac?" Jack was immediately on his feet, hovering over intently over the bed; his eyes desperately searching for any signs of life.

His prayers were answered this time when Mac's eyes slowly cracked open. His irises were almost a dull blue, glazed over and unfocused. He didn't seem to notice Jack hovering there in his line of sight. His eyes kept drooping close and opening again and then closing again in slow, confused succession like he was trying his hardest to resurface from whatever darkness he was trapped in inside his own mind.

The beeping on the heart monitor was getting progressively more erratic before Mac clenched his eyes shut and started gagging.

"Mac! It's okay Mac, _you're_ okay," Jack said, his other hand reaching to grasp onto Mac's shoulder, his palm rubbing up and down the length of his arm comfortingly. "It's me, your old buddy Jack – with emphasis on the old," he said, forcing a smile onto his face. "You're alright now, Mac, you're safe. I won't let anyone hurt you again," he said, repeating the phrase 'you're okay' over and over again like a mantra without relinquishing his grip on Mac. It seemed to do the trick because slowly, he noted with relief, erratic beeping sound started calming down until it was more of the same repetitive sound he'd been hearing for the past four days.

When Mac finally opened his teary eyes and his gaze shifted to meet Jack's, he didn't think he'd ever seen a sight more gorgeous in his life.

His hand released the grasp he had on Mac's shoulder and moved to cup the side of his jaw and neck, looking straight into his eyes.

"You're okay, Mac. You're in the hospital right now. You're alright, just don't try to talk man," he said when he noticed Mac moving his lips slightly, "You have one of those tube thingys in your throat cause the bullet made a heap of mess of your insides and your lung." Even through his pain and his confusion and his fear in that moment, Jack knew that Mac's big wonder-brain was already turning its gears and processing his situation and everything that had happened. "Do you remember what happened?" he asked after a moment.

Mac didn't react immediately, his eyes trained intently on Jack, but after a while he gave a small barely noticeable nod.

"Mac, I'm going to ask you another question right now and I don't want you to freak out, okay? Just… I'm here, alright? I got your back so you don't have to worry about anything." Jack waited until it was clear that Mac understood what he said. "Was it Murdoc?"

The heart monitor jumped a little the moment the question left his lips which was proof enough for him. But when Mac nodded, his eyes slightly downcast, that cemented Murdoc's fate in Jack's book immediately.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself under his breath. He was sure it was Murdoc from the get go, but getting the confirmation that he was indeed responsible for them coming so close to losing Mac, that really was the final nail in the coffin. He was going to string the crazy son of a bitch up by the freaking balls and use him for target practice. He noticed the look on Mac's face and immediately reached out to grasp him on the shoulder. "It's okay, Mac, we're going to get that nut job and make sure he'll never be able to do this to anyone ever again, okay, bud?"

Mac didn't respond but Jack took his silence as an affirmative anyway.

All of a sudden, the stress from the past four days came crashing down on him without mercy and he felt absolutely exhausted. He let out a tired sigh and sat back down on the chair, leaning close to the bed, bringing both his hands still holding onto Mac's up to his face and leaning his forehead on their intertwined hands and he finally let the tears fall.

He could sense Mac's concern but for those few short minutes, he just didn't have the strength to comfort him; he just needed to breathe and recalibrate himself because god knows he hadn't been able to do any of that since the shooting.

The tears left warm tracks as it trickled down his cheek. Jack wasn't a crier most of the time, it didn't mean that he didn't cry or was ashamed to do so, he just preferred to express his grief through his fists instead of his tears but it didn't mean that he was above the more sensitive kind of emotional expression. There were no words to describe the relief he felt on the inside seeing Mac's baby blues open again and the kid being there and present with him.

He felt a movement in his hand and the feel of the tears being brushed off his cheek in a swift gentle motion and finally looked up. Mac's eyes were on him, shining with concern and his finger was wet from the tear he'd brushed off of his cheek. Jack couldn't help it; he smiled.

"I missed you, man," he said, "More than you can ever imagine." Mac couldn't respond to that even though he tried, but Jack understood what he was trying to say anyway. "Don't you do that to me again, I'm getting too old for this kind of stress in my life. You're the cause of like ninety percent of all my grey hairs, you know?"

The small quirk of his lips was the only sign of the smile, but to Jack it was the most beautiful sight in the world.

 **tbc**


	3. Brother's in Arms

Watching Mac in pain and having to stand back and do nothing was not in Jack's job description, but he was obligated to do just that when the med people came to take out the breathing tube. He hovered close though, making sure Mac knew that he was there and he wasn't going nowhere _ever;_ trying to be both silently and verbally encouraging and not letting go Mac's hand until he absolutely had to.

After everything was said and done and Mac was finally settled again, this time with an oxygen mask instead of the scary tube – Jack didn't think he missed seeing the kid's face as much as he truly did – and was obviously fighting a losing battle against sleep, Jack finally sat down and just exhaled. Matty and Cage were somewhere outside having a talk with the doctors about one thing or another or debriefing the agents she had guarding Mac's side of the hospital wing or something Matty-ish like that. Bozer and Riley had rushed over when he told them that Mac was awake and at one point they'd left again, muttering something about one thing or another, Jack really wasn't paying that much attention. His only rule was that both of them would check in every hour or so just so he'd know they were safe and not doing anything dangerous or illegal or anything like that – that was his and Mac's turf.

He sat there and watched Mac; not saying anything or doing anything, he just kept his eye glued to him, watching for the most miniscule of movements and the way his eyes kept drooping and he kept forcing them back open. Watching his chest rising and falling and the way he seemed completely oblivious to Jack staring at him.

Jack wasn't sure what time it was or how many hours he had been sitting there unmoving. He knew from the fresh change of clothes he could see on the terribly conspicuous agent who'd walked past Mac's room more than ten times already that it was the next day, maybe even the day after that which meant that it was officially the New Year. But he didn't feel the vibration in the ground from the fireworks show so it meant that it wasn't yet past midnight.

Mac seemed like he'd finally lost his battle; his breathing had evened out and his eyes finally closed. He was lying half propped up on his side facing Jack; slightly curled into himself. Jack could help but think about how young he looked in that moment, before coming to the realization that he really was still that young. He really was just a kid, a super special, super genius kid who could make anything from everything and saved the world more times than he could count, but a kid nonetheless.

He'd look at kids Mac's age walking past; their shoulders light and unburdened by nightmares of the atrocities they'd seen, their eyes clear and innocent and their attentions focused on their little gadgets and fancy doohickeys and he'd glance over at Mac and see all the things he carried home from the war; the terrible memories and the experiences that not many people could truly understand. The knowledge the common man would never really want to know, like how much heat it would take to burn a human body or the burning smell of a rotting corpse or the memories of bullet wounds blowing open heads and faces ripped apart by explosions.

Those were the things that Mac carried around with him that no one else but Jack could ever truly comprehend and it was those things that earned Mac Jack's utmost respect and loyalty.

While other people his age with less skill and less smarts went on with their lives and worried over their petty everyday problems, Mac who was smarter than average and beyond talented and knowledgeable in so many aspects – a person who could do everything and be anything he wanted; left it all behind to go put his life on the line alongside the people like Jack who had so much less to offer the world. That was one of the first things about Mac that stood out to Jack and the kid had gone on to shatter every other misconception he'd had about him ever since he first laid his eyes on the 'pretty boy little prep school kid playing dress up'. They went on to laugh about it later but still it struck Jack sometimes just how wrong he'd been back then.

Jack's respect and admiration were hard earned things, especially both at once; there were people he respected but didn't admire and there were people he admired but didn't really respect or in cases people received perhaps a fraction of both. The only other person he ever really respected and admired was his dad and Mac had at one point joined his ranks in Jack's book, and he earned it purely on the backs of him being just an amazing, fantastic human being.

He quickly proved himself to be one of the best people Jack Dalton had ever had the pleasure of knowing and he made sure to let him know that every day.

Riley had joked that Jack had imprinted on Mac like a baby duckling (a really bad ass baby duckling that could kick the asses of all the other little ducklings that made fun of him) and Jack really couldn't find any fault in that reasoning.

He hadn't noticed Matty reentering the room until she was standing right behind him; the sound of her voice calling his name nearly scared the living crap out of him.

"Christ on a cracker, Matty, don't _do that_!" said Jack, one hand clutching at the material of his shirt over his heart.

"Just checking your reaction time, Agent Dalton," said Matty with a completely straight face. "I think your age may be affecting your response time because that was pretty sad," she added but a small smile seeped through the cracks in her demeanour.

"I think I deserve a little lazy time in this case after the week we've all had," said Jack.

Matty smiled at that. "You're right. How's blondie doing?"

Both of them turned to look at the sleeping Mac.

"As well as can be expected considering he got a hole the size of Texas blown out of his side."

"I'll let that over exaggeration slide, Jack," said Matty.

There was a small commotion near the door that caused Jack to involuntarily reach for his gun but it was only Bozer and Riley who entered, both chuckling at something one of them had said.

"Is Mac awake?" asked Bozer the moment he entered.

"Naw," said Jack, "He just fell asleep."

"What time is it," asked Bozer again, this time turning to Riley.

"Umm… about fifteen minutes till midnight," she said.

Bozer sighed disappointedly.

"What's this about?" asked Jack. Bozer and Riley seemed like they were up to something and he wasn't sure he even wanted to know what it was.

But as if he heard his name being mentioned, Mac stirred suddenly. His eyes opening slowly, glancing at an unseen spot in the far corner for a moment before his shifted, turning around to look at the beaming Bozer standing by the door.

"Mac! Always with the perfect timing," said Bozer, almost skipping the rest of the way into the room.

"Let me reiterate," said Jack, reaching up to massage the bridge of his nose tiredly. "What is this all about?"

"We got to thinking," started Bozer, "And by we, I mean me and Riley, that since we can't go to watch the New Year fireworks together, then we'll bring the fireworks to us."

By this time Cage had joined them in the room, completing their dysfunctional little family unit.

"Bozer," warned Matty, "If anything catches on fire I am holding you personally responsible."

"Don't sweat it, Matty," said Bozer excitedly, "There ain't no fire involved."

Jack had to admit that as exasperated as he could get by Bozer's antics, his interest was piqued somewhat.

"We thought that we'd do something MacGyver-ish to commemorate this special occasion," said Riley, stepping up behind Bozer.

Jack looked over to Mac and could see the curiosity shining in his eyes. It was the most lively he'd seen him in what seemed like a lifetime, and just the sight almost brought tears to Jack's eyes.

It seemed like out of nowhere Bozer had conjured up a giant fish bowl and a few supplies that seemed like he'd raided the kitchen pantry before he came.

Beside him Jack could almost sense the smile on Mac's face, even from under the oxygen mask. He turned to look and was pleased to discover that his MacSpidey-senses were still perfectly intact.

"You know what we're getting at Mac?" asked Riley.

Mac just nodded.

"Damn. I'm not all that shocked but we kind of wanted it to be a surprise."

"Told you my man Mac knows all the tricks of the trade," said Bozer proudly.

"Care to explain it to the rest of us simpletons that aren't enlightened to the _tricks of the trade_?" said Matty and Jack swore he could not have said it any better himself.

"Well… it was back in… um, third grade? –" Mac held up four fingers, "– Fourth grade. I sprained my ankle playing soccer on the eve of the New Years –"

"You sprained your ankle _playing_ soccer?" interrupted Riley in disbelief.

"Is it so hard to image me as an athlete in my youth?"

" _Yes_ ," said Riley and Jack simultaneously. Mac did a so-so motion with his hand though his eyes were sparkling with amusement.

"Fine, we passed by a group of guys playing soccer and their ball came flying our way and they asked me to kick it back to them."

"You sprained your ankle kicking a ball back to some guys?" asked Riley, still in utter disbelief.

Jack tuned to Mac and saw him shaking his head. "Nah, he attempted to kick the ball but missed and fell and sprained his ankle," said Jack, putting together the whole story from Mac's reaction and the deep knowledge he had regarding Bozer.

Bozer immediately clamped his mouth with a glare directed at Jack. "Shut up, Jack. _Anyway_! Long story short – I sprained my ankle so we couldn't sneak out to go watch the fireworks display being done on the field by the school, so… so Mac brought the fireworks to us," he said, his expression turning thoughtful as he regarded Mac closely.

Mac returned his gaze, looking especially touched himself.

"I admit I'm getting all curious now, so have at it, Bozer," said Jack.

He sat back down in his chair and watched as Bozer, the beaming smile once again plastered onto is face, grabbed the table pushed against the far end of the wall and rolled it over to Mac's bed, placing the empty fishbowl on it, asking Riley again about the time.

It was about eight minutes to midnight so Bozer shuffled around with the help of Riley getting the stuff set up, pulling the strangest stuff out of the black duffle back he'd hauled into the room, among it, a bottle of vegetable oil and about a dozen or so eye drop bottles of food colouring.

Jack turned to watch Mac as he watched Bozer set up whatever it was he was doing and noticed him attempting to readjust himself so that he was leaning back against the raised bed, trying to find a more comfortable position and quickly stood up to help him. His hand quickly reached to grab Mac's wrist when he noticed him reaching for the oxygen mask, but the puppy-dog eyed look Mac spared with had always been his weakness.

" _Fine_. But the _second_ you feel even slightly off, you better let me know. I mean it," he said sternly. When Mac nodded he helped slide the oxygen mask off his face and placed it on the pillow beside his head, watching closely as Mac took short, measured breaths, his eyes closed in concentration for a moment.

He'd really missed seeing Mac's face.

"There minutes till midnight," announced Cage, taking over the role of watch keeping without Bozer having to ask.

She'd walked over to the bed and was sitting perched beside Mac's legs as they all continued watching Bozer and Riley fiddling around with the bottles of water and the oil. Matty came up the other side close to Jack and together they made something of a circle around Mac's hospital bed.

Bozer filled the fish bowl with water until it was about three-fourths of the way full and did something else in another bowl on the floor out of sight.

"A minute," said Cage.

Bozer was almost vibrating in his shoes with excitement.

Jack didn't once take his eyes off Mac, who didn't take his eyes off Bozer the entire time.

"Thirty seconds."

"Okay, gimme a countdown," said Bozer, lifting up the second bowl filled with what Jack could tell was oil and a variety of little coloured droplets that sat on the bottom like marble spheres.

"Ten – nine – eight – seven – six – five –" at that point Bozer and Riley both lifted up the oil mixture and carefully poured it over the surface of the water in the fish bowl on the table in front of Mac. "Three – two – _one_."

The countdown ended without a spoken word; everyone's attention was focused on the glass bowl, waiting for it blow up or spontaneously combust or something.

It was the blue sphere that sat over the surface of the water that fell first, like a blue raindrop down into the center of the bowl before it burst like a tiny wet firecracker. Then it was one of the reds and the yellows; slowly one by one it fell and like the little coloured sphere before it would burst into a small wisp of colour until the clear water in the bowl was dyed like a rainbow; or like a firecracker bursting against the backdrop of the night sky.

It wasn't the most extravagant thing Jack had ever seen in his life, but it was the most heartwarming, made even more so by the look on the faces of each and every person standing around the little fishbowl filled with water in that silent hospital room that day. Especially the look on Mac's face – it was sight that warmed Jack down to his very core.

"Happy New Year, Mac," said Bozer, looking especially solemn; the smile was absent from his face and he was looking at Mac like he was the only person that mattered in the room.

Mac carefully took a deep breath and mouthed out a replying 'Happy New Year' that was more air than sound but it was the sweetest thing Jack had heard in a week.

Bozer immediately crossed the distance – Jack took a step back to make room for him and watched as he and Mac embraced each other; holding each other tight for a long while before they finally parted. That began the chain reaction of Happy New Year wishes and people stepping up to each other to embrace.

Jack went in for Matty first, who seemed immediately apprehensive, but then she smiled and opened her arms wide to accept his encompassing hug. It was quickly followed by a hug for Cage and Riley and even one for Bozer; Jack topped that one off with a firm slap on the back that nearly sent Bozer sprawling to the ground.

"Careful, Boze," said Riley with a grin, "You might sprain something."

"Hardy har-har," said Bozer though he was thoroughly unamused.

In the end it was Jack standing there staring at Mac for a solid minute before he even realized that there were eyes on him. Neither of them moved; the surrounding had dimmed and silenced in Jack's point of view, he didn't even notice the rest of the people in the room with them. It was just him and Mac in that space at that moment and Jack just couldn't take his eyes off him.

Finally he moved, crossing the short distance bringing him back to Mac's side, a position he'd filled gladly for almost a week. His hand found Mac's shoulder, reaching across his back carefully and gently pulling him close to his chest and holding him there tight in his arms.

"I love you, brother," Jack said, almost a whisper said only for Mac's ears. " _Thank you_ … thank you for being alive."

Jack could feel Mac's arms tighten around him and the sound of his breathing in his ear. " _Thank… you… Jack._ " Came the barely audible words and Jack had to blink a few times to quell the tears and the sob threatening to bubble up.

He appreciated everyone else's attention being on everything else when he and Mac eventually separated and he reached up to wipe away the tears that had pooled in the corner of his eyes. Mac just watched him with his eyes, not doing anything or saying anything more but it was enough. Just being able to look at Mac and see his eyes, blue and bright and oh so pretty gazing back at him, that was all the reassurance Jack needed.

"At least there's one good thing to come out of all this," said Bozer, "I managed to salvage the pastrami!"

The groan that resounded through the room was unanimous and in unison and spoke of deep rooted aghast.

 _Epilogue_

Mac was in the hospital for another three weeks before he was allowed to go home. By the end of the three weeks both he and Jack couldn't have skedaddled out of that building any faster had they been teleported straight onto the Millennium Falcon.

Mac was perched on the edge of the bed in a pair of black sweats, a plain black t-shirt and one of Jack's favourite ACDC hoodies that he'd at some point laid claim to, as Jack shuffled around making sure they'd left nothing behind.

"Really, Jack, I can –"

"I know you can, Mac, but I'm doing it anyway, so just sit there and shut _yer_ pie-hole while I make sure we don't have to come back here to pick up something we'd left behind cause you'd gone and distracted me."

Mac sighed but sat back down on his haunches and made no further arguments.

Matty was outside handling the paperwork and stuff, Cage was bringing the car around and Bozer and Riley were somewhere outside doing whatever it was Bozer and Riley did when they were off doing their nerd business.

"Hey Jack," called Mac suddenly when Jack was checking to see whether he'd left something under one of the chairs.

"Yeah?" he shot back from over his shoulder without turning around to look at Mac. When he didn't get a reply, he quickly straightened up and turned around only to find Mac staring back at him; a peculiar look on his face. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," said Mac offhandedly, though from his demeanour Jack could tell that there was definitely something not right.

Without saying anything else, he walked over to the bed – Mac averting his eyes to look at his hands clenched on his lap, a definite sign that something was not okay – and took a seat on the spot beside Mac. "You're not alright," he said immediately. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Mac quickly. "I mean, nothing's _wrong_ , just…" he took a deep breath. "I never got to thank you, _properly_ I mean, for being there – for saving my life," he said somberly, "For _always_ being there; for always coming through when I need you the most. I know I don't say it enough, but half the reason I'm brave enough to do the things I do is because I know you have my back. You always have my back and this time especially. I… I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. You saved my life on the night of the shooting and you kept me alive by just… _being_ here… I could… somehow I think I knew you were there – like I could sense you there the whole time, and it's what made me hang on. It's what made me want to hang on no matter how tired I was and how hard everything seemed to be. It's all because of you, Jack – so… _thank you_ for being you and always being there for me."

Jack wasn't ashamed of crying or of showing emotion; but he'd been doing so much of it lately it really was getting kind of embarrassing. But at that moment, hearing those words, hearing that voice and seeing that face and that smile and knowing that Mac was still there; it all just finally came down on him like a hammer of emotions. It was one thing knowing something in your own heart, but it was something completely different hearing it being said by the person who meant absolutely everything to you and that was what Jack was experiencing in that moment.

There were so many things he could have said, so many 'aw shucks' he could have expressed and so many arguments he could have made to the contrary – one such was the fact that Mac was the _reason_ he was the Jack Dalton of today, so he should at least take some of the credit. But there was just something in Mac's face; something shining in his eyes in that moment that prompted Jack to just say –

"You're welcome, Mac."

Mac's smile was bright and beautiful and Jack honestly couldn't ask for anything more in that moment.

Until Bozer and Riley arrived at the door with a wheelchair in tow excitedly saying something about 'hospital policy' – the disgruntled expression Mac wore all the way down seven floors and out the automatic entrance door was even more of a gift.

Mac had been home for an entire day before he remembered what Murdoc had said about the present under the tree.

The Christmas tree and all the decorations were still up in the house. He wasn't sure whether it was because they didn't have time to bring it down or they just didn't want to – trying to preserve any semblance of their twice ruined Christmas party for as long as they could. And by _they_ , he meant Bozer.

The only thing different from that night was the fact that the corridor leading towards the veranda no longer had a stained pool of his blood, Bozer and Riley had made sure of it.

The presents that had been meticulously arranged under the tree all those weeks ago were still there (Mac half hoped in a moment of very morbid amusement that no one had gotten anyone a puppy as a gift). Bozer was in the kitchen fiddling with some kind of new latex mixture he'd bought online and Jack was out in the yard doing some supposed gardening. It was Jack-speak for securing the perimeter as he'd been doing nearly every hour since they arrived home.

Mac on the other hand had been dropped off on the couch in the living room in front of the fire place; water, biscuits, the remote, magazines and a small box of paperclips all set around him within reaching distance and left there under strict orders not to even put his socked feet on the floor.

Personally, he felt fine. Just a little sore and stiff and his throat still felt raw and dry and it was a bit uncomfortable to swallow, but it wasn't like he stopped being able to do things for himself. Unfortunately, neither Jack nor Bozer agreed and in this case, Mac couldn't get a single person to actually side with him, so there he sat, planted on the sofa watching the pine needle shedding all over the floor around the tree. It was then that the small wrapped package caught his eye. It was the one he'd picked up on the doorstep that night. He'd completely forgotten about it until that moment.

He was so caught up in looking at the gift while the memory of the shooting started flashing through his mind, he didn't notice that he actually put his foot on the floor to stand up at the exact moment that Jack decided to make his hovering presence known.

"Now what did I say, Mac? Did I or did I not give you strict instructions to keep your butt on that sofa and not to move?"

"I'm not an invalid, Jack," said Mac with a sigh.

"No, that you are not. What you are is someone who, barely even a month ago, got shot at point blank range –" Jack paid him absolutely no mind when he explained that it was more like a five-point-two feet range instead of point blank – "By an obsessed psycho with a gun and spent the better part of a week in a _coma_ breathing through a tube. _That's_ what you are Mac. So when I say keep that tushy on those cushions you best be doing just that my friend," said Jack, his finger pointed dramatically for emphasis. "Tell me what you need and I'll get it for you."

Mac took a deep breath before resigning himself to his fate; pointing towards the gift wrapped in the red and black paper sitting innocently among all the other gifts.

"In a gift opening mood?" asked Jack as he trudged over, picking up the gift with one hand and looking over it curiously. "Who's this one from?"

Mac steeled himself before he answered. "I… I think it's from Murdoc… from that night."

Jack's eyes immediately narrowed and he practically jumped aside, placing the box on the table at the far corner and stepping away. "How do you know?"

"He told me he left something for me that night and I just remembered. I don't think it's a bomb though, it's just… not really his style."

Jack didn't look comforted in the slightest. "I think we should report this to Matty first," he said, "Have a team check it out for prints or whatever CSI-ish thing the white coats do in their fancy little labs with stuff like this."

Mac didn't argue, mainly because he knew that it wasn't an argument he'd be able to win especially consider what had happened. And especially because he knew that Jack was right.

It took almost half a day before one of the Phoenix scientists came back to them with the news that the present was a hundred-percent clean – which still didn't put Jack's mind at ease, but that wasn't really at all surprising. The guy even took the liberty to rewrap it a little to preserve the element of surprise; however considering the last surprise Mac got from Murdoc nearly turned out to be his last, Mac really wasn't all that keen on a repeat on that front, so when Jack hovered close behind him, peering over his shoulder as he carefully tore open the package, Mac didn't think to tell him to stop.

It was a mug.

After a moment of just staring at it confusedly and sharing an equally confused look with Jack, Mac swiveled it around in his hand to read the text that was written on the front.

It was one of those Christmassy gifts people at the office would give each other. Its creation was purely innocent in nature but considering that it was a gift from Murdoc to Mac after what he did, it was especially ominous.

 ** _I survived another meeting that should have been an e-mail._**

It said.

Jack cursed but Mac couldn't help but chuckle.

He wasn't sure what exactly he expected from Murdoc but that was definitely not it, so the only thing he could do in the moment was laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"I don't see what's so funny about this, Mac," said Jack apprehensively.

That actually made Mac laugh harder. I was painful on his body but he just couldn't stop. "Honestly Jack, I don't really either."

 **The End**

Riley and Bozer's little firework in a bottle is a real thing by the way, I did all dem research and shit. You can look it up on YT, just search Firework in a Jar (cause I can't link stuff on this site.)

Thank you to everyone who kept up with the story and left so many lovely amazing comments. This story was a great one to write and I was really happy to see the reception being as amazing as it was from all your beautiful people. Don't be said that it's ended though, consider this just the beginning, or many other Mac whump fics to come cause honestly, I really just can't help myself. I wish I had as much drive as I do ideas sometimes; I wish there was a way to print fanfic straight from ones brain.


End file.
